How Far
by Livin4Jesus
Summary: How far would you go for a friend, a brother, a father? No slash
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I originally had this story planned out but when I started writing it I kept coming up with a deathfic ending(I need to stop listening to sad music). Finally I wrote another version with a deathfic ending to get it out of my head so I could finish this one and it worked. So this one is my original idea with a happy ending and the next one will be basically this story with a character death ending. **

**Now you would think after all of this I would be finished and move on to my next story right? Wrong. The plot bunny just won't stop throwing things at me. I'm thinking about doing one or both of these fics again but with Peter's and Neal's roles reversed.** **Anyway enough rambling.**

**Disclaimer: Duh**

**Thanks so much to Principessa Di Morte for the awesome beta!**

_He who has nothing to die for has nothing to live for. ~Moroccan proverb._

How far would you go for a friend, a father, a brother?

Neal Caffrey stared at the man in front of him. The man that was holding a gun. A gun that was currently pointing at his partner.

…

"Oh come on Peter. It's not that bad." Neal said.

They were in Peter's office. Neal was sitting across from the agent with his feet propped up on the desk.

Peter looked up from the file he was reading and stared at Neal's feet.

Neal quickly lowered his feet to the floor.

"It's not completely illegal. I'd call it a gray area."

"No," Peter answered without looking up.

"Peter."

"Neal."

"Peter."

Deciding that his pain in the butt wasn't going to let him work Peter got up and left his office to get some coffee. To his chagrin, Neal followed, still trying to convince him of his plan. Peter tuned Neal out as they descended the stairs. They reached the bottom and made it to the middle of the bullpen before Peter stopped and turned around.

"No Neal, and that's final!"

Neal watched Peter turn to continue walking when he saw a guy walk through the glass doors and into the bullpen, pull out a gun, and point it right at Peter.

Neal continued to stare at the criminal pointing the gun at Peter. He was saying something about Peter arresting him and wanting revenge. He heard people talking, probably trying to talk the man down, but Neal wasn't listening. He could see it in the man's eyes-he wasn't backing down.

Neal's eyes focused on the gun again, all of his instincts telling him to run; duck; get out of the way. After all no fed is worth dying for, right?

Neal looked to his left and for a moment sapphire blue met chocolate brown.

_Wrong. Peter is._

Peter was his partner, his friend, and on occasion his father and older brother. Peter was worth his life. And, Neal realized, he was probably the only person he would die for without question, without hesitation, and without a shred of regret.

He looked back at the gunman, his mind made up. He was a good reader of body language and he knew that the guy was about to fire. He watched the finger on the trigger and saw it squeeze ever so slightly.  
><strong><br>**Neal made his move. He lunged sideways to the left, hitting Peter with his shoulder and sending the older man to the ground just as the gun's report echoed off the walls.

Neal felt an impact in his chest and stumbled back a step, but he felt no pain. He watched as agents swarmed, disarmed, and apprehended the gunman in a matter of seconds.

Neal was surprised that he felt no pain.

_He missed?_ he thought. Then he remembered the impact in his chest. _Unless..._

He looked down and saw red seeping across his white shirt from a hole in the upper right part of his chest.

_Funny it doesn't hurt_.

It was as if he were looking at someone else's chest instead of his own. There was no pain, but he was starting to feel a little cold and weak. He reached up and touched the blood on his shirt, confirming that what he saw was actually there.

"Neal."

He knew that voice. It was Peter.

He swayed as he felt himself growing weaker. He lifted his head and looked at Peter, their eyes meeting.

"Peter."

In the silence of the room his whisper sounded like a shout.

He gasped as whatever it was that was holding back the pain stopped and burning agony ripped through his chest.

Then his legs finally gave out, and he fell to his knees and started to pitch forward. He was too weak to break his fall. Just before his face smacked the floor strong hands caught him and gently turned him over onto his back.

He looked up and saw that it was Peter who had caught him. He wasn't surprised. Peter always caught him.

He felt Peter gently lay him in his lap.

"Peter."

The older man didn't look at him he just pressed on his chest sending a new burst of pain through him.

Through his pain he saw worry and concern on Peter's face. But more importantly, he saw guilt.

_Why wouldn't there be guilt? Peter is a boy scout... of course he would blame himself for this,_Neal thought.

He had to make Peter understand that it wasn't his fault. He had freely made this choice. He was so weak but his need was stronger, so he forced a bloody hand to obey and slowly reached up and grabbed Peter's wrist in his weak grip.

"Peter," he said weakly.

Peter finally looked at him. Neal wanted to say what he was thinking but he was too weak so he locked eyes with Peter and tried to communicate everything in that one look. The reassurance that it wasn't his fault, the gratitude of everything he had done for him, and how much he cared for the FBI agent.

_You're like the father and brother I never had,_he thought.

He saw surprise then understanding. Then he saw his exact feelings reflected in those brown eyes. Eyes that he had always found comfort in and that were now shining with unshed tears.

"Just hang on," Peter whispered. "Just hang on."

And he did. He gripped the older man's wrist and stared at his partner and friend, his eyes never leaving Peter's face until he heard a commotion and paramedics knelt down around them.

He was tired and he wanted to sleep but suddenly he felt himself being moved out of Peter's lap and then Peter was being pulled away.

He snapped to full awareness and gripped Peter's wrist with a strength he didn't know he still possessed.

"No!" he managed to force out.

Peter was the only thing anchoring him and he was afraid that if he let go of Peter he would slip away and be unable to find his way back again. So he held on tightly with all the strength he had left.

Peter looked to the paramedic who nodded but told him to stay out of the way.

Peter knelt down beside him and gripped Neal's hand tightly in his own.

Neal was only vaguely aware of the paramedics. He hadn't even realized they had put him on a stretcher until they were rolling him out of the building and into the ambulance.

His brain was becoming more and more fogged over until all he was aware of was that hand holding his.

**)()()(**

_How had this happened?_

Peter asked himself that question for the hundredth time as he paced back and forth in the hospital waiting room.

He had been there almost two hours. He had called El right after he got to the hospital and she came as quickly as she could, but when she had asked what had happened he had simply shaken his head, unable to tell her. So she sat in a chair to wait until her husband was ready to tell her.

_How?  
><em>  
>The word floated in his mind as the memories flashed before his eyes.<p>

He had just shot down Neal's idea for the umpteenth time when he turned to see a figure walk into the bullpen and point a gun at him. He recognized the man as one he had put in prison. The gunman proceeded to state the obvious fact that he wanted revenge.

He started to try to talk him down when for some reason he felt the need to look to his right and for a moment chocolate brown met sapphire blue.

There had been something in Neal's eyes. Some kind of look. At the time he hadn't been able to think about it but now he realized what that look had been. He had seen it before. It was a determined look that Neal got whenever he had made up his mind about something, usually something he knew Peter wouldn't like.

_I should have known what he was going to do.  
><em>  
>After all he knew how loyal and trustworthy Neal was. He may not trust Neal with anything that could be stolen, forged, or sold for a substantial amount of money. His life, though... he trusted Neal completely with his life. But he hadn't realized what he was planning. Instead he had looked back at the gunman and proceeded to try to talk him out of shooting.<p>

He could see the resolute look in the man's eyes and watched as he squeezed the trigger.

_I'm going to die__, _he thought_._

Then he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He felt something hit him and suddenly he was on the floor as the sound of the gunshot reverberated throughout the room.

Peter leapt to his feet and watched as the gunman was taken down. And then his mind caught up with him.

_How did I get on the floor?_

He froze. Then he slowly turned around knowing what he would see.

There was Neal standing right where he had stood moments before, looking down at his shirt as it swiftly turned from white to red**.**

"Neal."

Everyone around him froze as they heard the fear and panic that he was so desperately trying to control seep into his voice.

Neal's eyes came up and met Peter's.

"Peter."

The whisper was like a cannon blast to Peter's ears.

The young man gasped and fell to his knees. Peter lunged forward, caught Neal before he hit the ground and gently laid his friend in his lap.

"Peter."

Peter didn't look at Neal's face. He couldn't meet his eyes as a tidal wave of guilt slammed into him.

_I'm__ supposed to protect __him__ not the other way around. _

He pressed down on the wound in Neal's chest, his heart clenching when Neal winced in pain, as he tried to stop the bleeding. He didn't bother telling anyone to call for help. He knew someone would take care of it. He focused all of his attention on Neal's chest.

Neal reached up and grabbed his wrist.

"Peter**.****"**

Peter couldn't help but look at Neal, but what he saw in those big blue eyes shocked him. He saw reassurance and gratitude but above all he saw... love.

As he stared Neal in the eye a world of communication passed between them.

He knew what Neal was telling him and he wanted to tell Neal so much, but he didn't know how to put it into words. So he just conveyed everything in that look.

_You are the son and little brother I never had.  
><em>  
>As he continued to stare at the man who had become so much a part of his life tears sprang to Peter's eyes but he refused to let them fall.<p>

_Not here. Not yet._

"Just hang on." He whispered. "Just hang on."

He kept his eyes locked on Neal, oblivious to everything else.

After what seemed like eternity the paramedics arrived. They rushed over to Neal and took him from Peter then pushed the agent away, but as he moved back he felt the grip on his wrist tighten.

"No!"

He looked at the paramedic who nodded but told him to stay out of the way. He knelt down beside Neal and gripped his hand tightly.

The paramedics worked fast and before long had him on a gurney and wheeled out of the building.

Peter never let go of Neal's hand. When the paramedic tried to keep him from riding in the ambulance, he had simply flashed his badge and stepped into the ambulance anyway.

"Peter, sit down. You're making me dizzy," Elizabeth said.

Peter finally stopped and sat down next to Elizabeth. He looked at his hands, still seeing the blood that had long been washed away. Neal's blood.

"This is all my fault, El" he whispered.

"No it's not honey," she said as she put her hand on his back.

"Yes, it is," Peter said as he stood up to pace again. "He was aiming at me. The guy that shot Neal was aiming at me."

"What?" El asked stunned.

"I put him in prison and he wanted revenge. He was about to shoot me when Neal pushed me out of the way. And now my friend is- No... my _brother_is dying because of me."

Peter continued pacing again and ran his hands through his hair.

Elizabeth stared for a moment as she absorbed what he said.

"No!" she said standing up. "No, this is not your fault."

She cupped his face in her hands.

"The only one at fault here is the monster that pulled the trigger, and Neal will tell you the same thing when we see him."

The guilt was still there but he felt a little better at her words.

"Thanks," he said. "Have I ever told you you're amazing?" he said as he hugged her.

"Yes, but it's still nice to hear."

**)()()(  
><strong>  
><strong>One hour later.<strong>

"Peter."

Peter turned to see a young man in his twenties wearing scrubs and walking towards him. He quickly stood up and walked over to the doctor.

"Nate," Peter said as he shook the doctor's hand.

Doctor Nathan Taylor was a friend of Peter's and Neal's. He had treated them both on occasion for injuries sustained on the job.

Peter was relieved to see Nate. He knew Neal was in good hands.

"How is he?" he asked.

"He's going to be all right," Nate said with a smile. "The bullet missed his lung and major arteries. He did lose a fair amount of blood and had to be given a transfusion, but the bullet didn't do any serious damage and he should get to go home in about a week."

Peter almost collapsed with relief.

"Thank you," he said as he laid a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "Can I see him?"

"He's been sedated for the night but you can sit with him," Nate said as he led the way to Neal's room.

"I'll be back to check on him later," he said as they stopped by Neal's door.

"Thanks again, Nate," Peter said.

Nate smiled in return and walked back down the hall.

Peter took a deep breath and walked into the room with Elizabeth at his side.

Neal was lying in a bed, pale and unmoving, with IVs and other tubes hooked into his arm.

Peter tentatively moved forward until he was next to the bed then reached out and grasped Neal's hand. He felt the tears threaten again as he looked at the pale lifeless form of his friend but he refused to let them fall.

Elizabeth walked to the other side of the bed and gently ran her fingers through Neal's hair, glancing at Peter as she did so. Though he hid it well she could still the distress on her husband's face.

"He's going to be ok, Hon," she said.

"I know," Peter whispered, "It was just too close. It could have very easily been different."

"But it wasn't. So stop thinking that way," she said firmly.

Peter nodded then sat in the chair by the bed without letting go of Neal's hand.

They sat together by Neal's bed for a while before Peter turned to El and said,

"Why don't you go home and get some rest? You look tired and Nate said he wouldn't wake up until morning anyway."

She didn't want to leave Neal but she had to admit she was tired. He was out of danger and would be asleep till morning.

"What about you?" she asked already knowing the answer.

Peter looked back at Neal.

"I can't leave him, El."

She smiled slightly and gave him a kiss.

"I know," she said. "Call me if anything changes."

"I will," he promised.

With a final look at Neal Elizabeth got up and left.

As Peter sat staring at the young man in front of him, the day's events running through his mind, silent tears began to spill over and run down his face.

Alone in the privacy of the hospital room, Peter Burke finally cried.

**)()()(**

When Neal woke up he could feel a hand gripping his. He turned his head to see Peter asleep, his head resting on the bed beside Neal's shoulder. Neal smiled as he watched his friend sleep.

He reached over and gently laid his hand on Peter's head, softly running his fingers through the older man's hair. After a moment Peter shifted and raised his head to look at him with bleary eyes.

Neal almost laughed as he watched Peter's face go from half asleep confusion to wide awake recognition as his memories caught up with him.

"Hey," Peter said as he sat up and ran a hand over his face.

"Hey. You been here all night?" he asked.

"Yeah. I- I couldn't leave," Peter said as he stared at the floor.

"Thanks," Neal said softly.

Peter stared at the floor a moment more before he gathered his resolve and looked Neal in the eye, his grip on the young man's hand tightening.

Neal saw the grim and guilty look cross Peter's features and he cut him off before he could say anything.

"I would do it again," he said deadly serious.

"You shouldn't have to," he replied. "I'm supposed to protect you."

"How? By getting shot and dying? That wouldn't protect me. That would _kill_ me!" he said harshly as his emotions took over. Then his anger vanished and tears started to run down his face.

Peter was taken aback at the anger in Neal's voice but even more so by the tears.

"Peter when Kate died, it was horrible but I made it through that because I had you," he whispered as he looked at the older man. "You kept me from running into the flames and then you picked up the pieces afterward. I survived because I had you... but if you died I would have no one to hold me together. Kate's death was painful but to be honest, losing you...it would be worse. I can't survive your death. Please don't make me try."

"And you think I could survive your death?" Peter asked, openly crying as well.

"At least you have El," Neal said. "You're all I have."

Peter sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped the younger man in a tight embrace.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered.

"Me neither," Neal said.

Peter pulled back and rested his hands on Neal's shoulders.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay," Neal repeated as he saw the guilt disappear from Peter's eyes.

"Oh, and I forgive you," Peter said trying to lighten the mood.

"For what?" Neal asked.

"For making me feel guilty," Peter said an innocent look on his face.

Neal grabbed his pillow and hit peter with it, knocking the FBI agent off the bed and onto the floor, the pillow landing in his lap. Neal took one look at Peter sprawled on the floor with a surprised look on his face and started laughing.

Elizabeth, who had been listening outside the door for the last few minutes, chose that time to walk in. She took in the sight of Peter on the floor a pillow in his lap and Neal lying on the bed laughing so hard tears were running down his face and she began to laugh also.

Peter looked back and forth between his lovely wife and his very much alive and well best friend, and he started laughing too.

**)()()(**

**Two Weeks Later**

Neal walked down the stairs and out the door of June's mansion before he made his way to the Taurus parked by the curb. He slid into the passenger side and handed Peter a thermos of June's coffee.

"Thanks," Peter said as he inhaled the wonderful aroma.

"No problem. I thought I'd bring you some in honor of my first day back," he said with a smile. "So have you missed me?"

"Like a sore thumb," Peter said with a teasing smile.

"Yeah, you've said that before," Neal said.

"Well maybe you just have that effect on people," Peter teased.

"Or you're just a naturally grumpy person," Neal said with a smile.

Peter just smiled and shook his head. He had really missed Neal. Work had been unbearably boring the past two weeks and he was glad the young man was coming back today. Neal always seemed to make things better, even mortgage fraud.

They arrived at the FBI building, parked, and walked in. They chatted and bantered during the long elevator ride. When the doors opened Peter let Neal go first, knowing what was awaiting him.

As he stepped off the elevator Neal saw the bullpen was full of people and he wondered if there was some big case going on, but before he could ask Peter about it they entered the bullpen and every person there started clapping.

Neal stood dumbfounded for a moment as cheering and shouts of "Welcome back, Neal" and "It's good to have you back" were heard, then a wide smile spread across his face. He turned to look at Peter with a questioning glance.

Peter put his arm around Neal's shoulders.

"They wanted to give you a welcome back party," he whispered in Neal's ear.

"Why?" Neal asked, confused.

"You risked your life for someone else and they wanted to honor you in some way," Peter explained. "You're also getting a commendation for saving the life of an FBI agent."

"But that's not why I did it," Neal said.

"They know that. That's why they're doing it," he said. "'With courage you will dare to take risks, have the strength to be compassionate, and the wisdom to be humble. Courage is the foundation of integrity.'"

"Keshavan Nair. Mozzie would be impressed," Neal said.

"Where do you think I got it from?" he asked eliciting a laugh from Neal. "Now let's go cut the cake."

Neal smiled and walked beside Peter toward the crowd of cheering people in front of them.

…

How far would you go for a friend, a brother, a father?

Neal Caffrey went far enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N This is the Deathfic version. I don't know how sad it is but it made me kinda sad writing it. I have decided to go ahead and do both of these stories again with Neal's and Peter's roles reversed. They should be up in the next few days. Thanks so much to those who reviewed they made my day.**

**Once again thanks Principessa Di Morte for the beta.**

**Disclaimer: Really?**

_A hero is not afraid to give his life. A hero is gonna save me, just in time. ~__Hero _by Skillet

How far would you go for a friend, a brother, a father?

…

Red. That's all he saw. An ever widening patch of red. It was everywhere.

Everything was red, including the memories that came unbidden to his mind.

He had been smiling when it happened.

Peter was standing in the middle of the bullpen teasing Neal, something that always made him smile, when he turned to see an angry looking man walk through the glass doors. He pulled out a gun and leveled it at his chest.

"You put my brother and me in prison," the gunman said.

Peter recognized him as Jonathan Watkins, a convict from a previous case. Peter had put Watkins and his brother away for art theft and smuggling.

"My brother only had a month left on his sentence when he was knifed by his cellmate. He's dead and it's all your fault for putting him there," Watkins cocked the gun. "Now I'm gonna make you pay."

Peter knew he was going die. Watkins was going to shoot him.

He took a deep breath. _Good-bye El,_ he thought.

Suddenly out of nowhere there was a flash of movement from his right. He turned his head to look when something hit him. He fell to the floor as the gun went off, the sound reverberating throughout the room.

He jumped to his feet as almost every agent in the room converged on Watkins, taking him down in seconds.

Peter stood watching a moment before his mind snapped to attention and he remembered getting pushed out of the way. Then his heart stopped and his blood ran cold as the realization hit him that Neal was nowhere to be seen.

Slowly he turned and the sight that met him scared him more than any gun ever could. In front of him stood Neal, eyes full of pain, staring at him with an ever growing red stain on his chest.

**)()()(**

Neal's worst nightmare was coming true. There was an angry murderous man with a gun, but that's not what scared him. What was so horrible was where the gun was pointing. Which was directly at Peter.

The guy was going to shoot Peter. Neal could see it in his eyes. He wasn't going to back down and he wasn't going to chicken out. A brief glance at his partner told Neal that Peter knew this too.

The next thought that struck him made his heart stop. Peter was going to die if something didn't happen.

He looked at Peter again and saw him take a deep breath accepting his fate.

_NO! _Neal's mind screamed at him. _Not him! He can't die!_

That's when Neal made a choice. Without thought, without hesitation, and without regret he lunged forward and shoved Peter to the floor and out of the path of the bullet that exploded from the gun.

White hot pain ripped through his chest and he staggered back a few steps, looking down at the growing red spot on his shirt.

When he looked back up Peter was on his feet standing as still as a statue not moving in the slightest. Then he slowly turned and looked at Neal with fear filled eyes.

The surprise and adrenaline was wearing off and Neal felt his strength evaporate and his knees give out as his legs refused to hold him any longer.

He saw the ground rush up at him and was waiting for the impact when he stopped. He felt strong arms holding him as they turned him over and cradled him.

He looked up to see Peter. He wasn't surprised. After all, Peter always caught him.

He was dying and he knew it but as he gazed up at the man who had become the only father he had ever had a peace and serenity overcame him. This wasn't how he had envisioned his death but if he had to die then dying for Peter was a good way to go in his book. He didn't feel any fear, only comfort and contentment. That's how he always felt around Peter, safe and secure. He could face death if Peter was there with him.

As he laid there, the strength seeping out of him, he realized there was something he needed to say. Something that he had never felt the need to voice until now. He tried to get the words to come but his body wouldn't aid him.

"Save your strength," Peter said but Neal didn't listen. He needed to say this and time was running out. He reached up and weakly grabbed a handful of Peter's shirt.

Finally he managed to get his voice to work.

"I... love you Peter." He forced out.

At those four words the tears that Peter had tried so hard to hold back rolled down his face. And as his heart pulled apart at the seams, Peter finally understood what it felt like for a parent to lose their child.

Peter reached up and brushed Neal's hair off his forehead then rested his hand on the side of the young man's face.

"I love you too...my brother, my son."

The words were barely audible past the lump in his throat but Neal heard him. A small but genuine smile spread across the young man's face. He closed his eyes a moment then his grip on Peter's shirt tightened ever so slightly and he forced his eyes open again to look at Peter.

Peter felt like his heart was breaking all over again as his eyes locked with those blue ones. Those eyes, that he had looked into so many times. Those eyes, that held so much life and mischief. Those eyes, that were now dull and glassy and struggling to focus.

Peter watched as Neal squinted his eyes slightly as he finally got them to focus, then stared at him intently. The young man's eyes roved over his face as if he were trying to take in every detail and commit it to memory.

As Neal looked at Peter he saw the obvious guilt in those brown eyes and forced more words past his lips.

"Not...your fault. It was...my choice. It's...what family...does."

For a moment as Neal spoke Peter saw a spark, just a tiny spark of the life that had always been there, but it was only for a moment then it faded again.

Neal felt himself slipping away but there was one more thing he wanted to say. Just one word. One word that he had said a million times, in a million ways. The one word that he wanted to be his last.

He gathered the last of his strength and took one last slow deep breath. Then, as the air left him, he forced his tongue to form the word.

"Peter," he sighed.

Then his eyes slid shut and his head rolled into Peter's chest.

He was gone.

"No," Peter whispered.

He held the lifeless body of the one person-besides Elizabeth-that meant the world to him to his chest as he buried his face in Neal's shoulder and sobbed.

Neal had given his life to save Peter's but he was only partially successful. Yes, Peter moved, breathed and his heart beat but he didn't live.

Maybe-just maybe-someday a long time from now he would live again. Maybe. But right here, right now, Neal Caffery was gone, and he had taken Peter Burke with him.

**1 year later  
><strong>  
>"No!" Peter said.<p>

"Oh come on Peter," Reese Hughes said, "It's been a year."

"No! I told you. No partners. I work alone."

Hughes sighed, "All right," he consented.

He knew that Peter wouldn't accept a new partner but he had to try anyway. Peter had refused to work with anyone, other than Jones and Diana, on a regular basis, ever since Neal's death and he even kept them at arm's length. He had closed himself off and kept everyone from getting too close. He still got his job done but the Peter Burke everyone had known disappeared the day Neal died and never came back. Hughes wondered if he ever would.

**)()()(  
><strong>  
>Peter walked back to his office and sat behind his desk. He couldn't believe anyone would think he would ever take another partner after what happened. He had gotten too close. He had let himself care for Neal too much. He got too personal and it cost Neal his life. No he would never take another partner even if there was someone who could take Neal's place.<p>

Diana walked in and handed him a file.

"That paperwork you wanted boss," she said.

"Thank you. That will be all," was his crisp reply.

Diana nodded and left.

No he would never get that close to anyone or let anyone get that close to him again. It was safer for all involved. People he let in got hurt and he wouldn't be the cause of another tragedy if he could help it.

_After all if it wasn't for me Neal would still be alive_, he thought.

Though if he was being honest with himself-which he wasn't-he also wouldn't let himself hurt that much again if he could help it. Neal's death had been the hardest thing he had ever experienced and he didn't think he had the strength to survive something like that again.

His eyes roamed over to Neal's old desk. Peter could almost see the young man sitting there trying to entertain himself while looking at boring files or planning something that Peter wouldn't approve of. Peter chuckled as in his mind's eye he saw Neal bounce up the stairs and into his office. He was smiling his most charming and innocent smile and wearing that stupid hat, but… Peter's chuckle broke off as reality once again assaulted him and Neal faded away, leaving in his place the tearing pain that had become Peter's constant companion. As the tears threatened, Peter grabbed his coat and left the office, not bothering to tell anyone where he was going since he didn't know himself. He just knew he needed to get out of there.

He took the stairs and all but ran to the first floor and out of the building as too many memories assaulted him and his heart constricted. He knew he was running away and that it wouldn't help. He couldn't outrun his mind but he didn't care. He felt like he was about to suffocate and every instinct told him to run. So he did.

He got in his car and drove, not caring where he ended up. He didn't have a destination in mind, so he was more than a little surprised to find himself at a cemetery, and not just any cemetery but the one Neal was buried in. Peter hadn't been here since the funeral a year ago.

_One year ago _**today**,Peter realized.

He didn't want to be here and yet he found himself getting out of the car and walking between the rows of headstones.

_I don't want to be here_, he thought. _I don't want to see it_.

He didn't stop, however, and a few minutes later he was standing in front of a gray tombstone that read:

**Neal Caffrey**

**Beloved partner, friend, brother, and son.**

On these last two words all the control Peter had managed to gain in the last year dissolved and all of his walls came crashing down. He crumpled to his knees and laid his hands on the smooth stone as he sobbed openly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly. "I should have protected you. That's what a father does."

Neal's voice whispered in his head.

"It was my choice. It's what family does."

The guilt and sorrow inexplicably lifted and peace settled over him.

"I know," he whispered.

He knelt there for a few moments more before standing and wiping away his tears.

"I love you Neal," he said touching the headstone a moment before walking away.

A slight breeze swirled around him carrying a whisper to his ears.

"I love you too, Peter."

A small smile spread across his face.

_No partners_, he thought, _but maybe I don't have to push everyone away_.

How far would you go for a friend; a brother; a father?

Neal Caffrey went all the way.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Here's version number three and happy ending number two. I will have the last one up tomorrow. **

**Thanks once again to Principessa Di Morte for the Beta. All mistakes are still mine.**

**Disclaimer: Seriously?**

_I save myself by saving you and by saving you I save myself._

What would you do for a friend, a brother, a son?

...

You've heard of the saying "The shot heard around the world?" Well this shot may not have been heard around the world but it was definitely heard around the FBI building. Neal was sure of that. After all who couldn't have heard the shot that nearly took the life of Peter Burke?

...

How someone got into the FBI with a gun Peter didn't know. What he did know was that someone had just walked into the bullpen, pulled out a gun, and stared waving it around.

"Where's Peter Burke?" the gunman asked looking around.

Before Peter could say anything he heard a voice from beside him and his heart stopped.

"Here," Neal said.

"What are you doing?" Peter hissed as Neal stepped forward.

Neal ignored him and stared at the gunman.

"I'm Peter Burke."

Peter stood there stunned as he watched the gunman level the gun at Neal's chest.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that the gunman wanted to shoot Peter Burke and that's exactly who he thought Neal was.

Peter was still in shock, his brain refusing to accept what his eyes were telling him.

_This can't be happening. This can't be happening._

Then Neal turned and looked at Peter with a small, accepting smile on his face.

With that look, his brain jolted out of shock and back to reality. The realization that Neal was about to die flooded through him and made his blood run cold.

He saw the gunman's finger twitch and a single thought roared though his mind. _NO! Not my son!_

The thought flashed through his mind as he lunged forward, grabbed Neal, and threw him to the floor just before the gun went off.

The pain in his chest was intense but it was worth it as he saw Neal climb to his feet unharmed.

Neal turned and their eyes locked. He moved forward and reached Peter just as his legs gave out. Neal caught him and managed to lower him to the floor. He gently laid Peter in his lap and pressed down on the wound.

Peter gasped as new fire ran through his chest.

"I'm sorry," Neal said his voice breaking.

Peter knew he wasn't apologizing for the pain. He reached up and grabbed Neal's arm, forcing the young man to look at him.

"Nothing to be sorry for," he forced out as he looked Neal in the eye.

Peter could see the guilt in the young man's eyes and he squeezed his arm a little tighter.

"Not. Your. Fault."

Neal nodded, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and grabbed Peter's hand in his own.

"Just hold on. Help is on the way," Neal said.

Peter held onto Neal for dear life as his strength drained out of him. Eventually paramedics arrived and began to move Neal away from him, but he held onto the young man and felt Neal's grip tighten as well. Neal had a scared look on his face as if he was just as afraid of Peter letting go as Peter was afraid to let him go. Seeing the panicky looks on the two men's faces, the paramedics relented and let Neal stay beside him.

They worked fast and got him on a gurney, rolling him out of the building to the waiting ambulance with Neal beside him the whole time. Neal climbed into the ambulance and sat beside him as they began the journey to the hospital.

The last thing Peter was aware of was Neal's hand squeezing his before everything went black and he slipped into unconsciousness.

**)()()(**

**Twenty Minutes Later**

Neal stood up from the uncomfortable waiting room chair and started pacing for the millionth time as he tried to outrun the images flashing before his eyes.

Neal had seen guns in the FBI office before—that was pretty common—but to see one in the hand of a crazy maniac wasn't.

The guy walked in, pulled out his gun, and waved it around.

"Where's Peter Burke?" he demanded.

Neal was smart. He knew this man wanted to shoot Peter. He may not know why, but at the moment it didn't really matter. He wanted to shoot him and Neal couldn't let that happen. He had already lost Kate he couldn't lose Peter, too. So he made a choice.

"Here," he said.

"What are you doing?" He heard Peter say, but he ignored him as he stepped forward.

"I'm Peter Burke."

He was vaguely aware of people staring at him with a mixture of shock and respect, but he was focused on the gun pointing at his chest.

To say he wasn't afraid would be a lie. Of course he was afraid—who wouldn't be? But the thought of Peter getting shot, of dying, was all he needed to stare down that gun without flinching. He turned and looked at Peter. He was going to die, he knew that, but Peter would live and that made it worth it. A small smile spread across his face then he looked back at the gun.

That's when it happened. He felt strong arms grab him from behind and push him to the floor as the shot echoed throughout the bullpen.

Agents swarmed the gunman and took him down as Neal climbed to his feet. The instant he was on his feet, he turned, knowing he would be facing his worst nightmare because there was only one person who could have pushed him out of the way.

He looked and sure enough there, in front of him, was Peter, his chest bloody. Their eyes locked a moment and Neal saw the pain in the older man's eyes.

_Dad!_ The thought ran through his head and before he could comprehend what he was thinking, he was moving. He rushed forward and reached Peter just as the older man's legs gave out. He caught Peter and grunted under the FBI agent's weight.

Somehow Neal managed to lower Peter to the floor without falling and laid him in his lap. He pressed down on the wound and flinched as Peter gasped.

"I'm sorry," he said his voice breaking.

He wasn't apologizing for the pain and Peter seemed to know this because he reached up and grabbed Neal's arm.

Neal turned and met his eyes.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Peter said.

_Yes there is,_ Neal thought.

He felt Peter's grip tighten.

"Not. Your. Fault." He said forcefully.

Neal felt his eyes fill up with tears but held them back. He nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat, as he gripped Peter's hand tightly.

"Just hold on. Help is on the way," he said, knowing someone would have called 911 by now.

All that was left was to wait for and, in Neal's case, pray for help to arrive.

After what felt like eternity the paramedics rushed into the office and started working on Peter. Neal felt his heart stutter as they tried to push him out of the way and he involuntarily gripped Peter's hand tighter. He was afraid that if he let go of Peter then the older man would slip away. Neal felt Peter's hand tighten in response and saw his same feelings reflected in those brown eyes.

Neal sent up a quick prayer of thanks as the paramedics let him stay by Peter. They got Peter onto a gurney and wheeled him out of the building with Neal staying with them and before anyone could stop him, he stepped into the ambulance and sat next to Peter, his hand never leaving his best friend's.

Neal was jarred from his thoughts by the arrival of Jones and Diana.

"How is he?" Diana asked.

"I don't know," Neal whispered as he turned and continued to pace.

Diana and Jones sat down to wait and a few minutes later Elizabeth walked in having been called by Diana.

Neal took one look at her and started apologizing.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"What happened?" Elizabeth asked.

Neal opened his mouth but couldn't find the words to tell her, so instead he turned and started pacing again.

Seeing that Neal couldn't say it Diana proceeded to explain.

"An armed gunman by the name of Jonathan Rodgers got into the building by knocking out a security guard. He then came into the white collar office, waved his gun around, and asked for Peter. Apparently he wanted revenge against Peter for shooting his brother during a take down. Before Peter could say anything, Neal stepped forward and said he was Peter."

Elizabeth turned to look at Neal. She may not have been there but it wasn't hard to figure out that the guy had wanted to shoot Peter.

"Why did you do that?" She asked Neal, already knowing the answer.

"I was just trying to protect him," he said as he ran his hands repeatedly through his hair. "I'm sorry I didn't know he would- But I should have known- I'm mean that's Peter. Of course he would..."

As Neal began to make less and less sense Elizabeth turned back to Diana.

"The gunman aimed at Neal but before he could shoot, Peter pushed Neal out of the way," Diana finished.

Now Neal's words made sense to her.

_I didn't know he would push me out of the way. I should have known he would. I mean that's Peter. Of course he would try to protect someone else._

"Hey," El said trying to get Neal's attention, but he didn't give any indication that he had heard her so she moved to stand in front of him.

"Hey," she said lifting his chin so he was looking at her. "This is not your fault. You tried to save him. You were willing to give your life for him. You are not to blame in any way."

"But I should've known he would do something like that. That's the way Peter is. I know him well enough that I should have been able to stop him."

_Well that was true__—__he did know her husband well,_ she thought.

"It doesn't matter if you had known or not. You know just as well as I do that when Peter decides to do something, he's going to do it and there is no force on this earth that could stop him from protecting his family."

Neal couldn't help but smile at her referring to him as family.

"But he might not have said anything. He might not have stepped forward. What if I caused him to get shot?" Neal whispered.

"You know Peter. He would have stepped forward," El said.

"And even if he hadn't, then the gunman would have just started shooting people at random," Diana said, cutting in. "Then there would have been a whole lot more casualties. Also your actions are probably the only reason no one died.

"How do you figure that?" Neal asked incredulously.

"Rodgers is a crack shot. If Peter hadn't saved you you'd be dead and if you hadn't stepped forward then Peter would have and he would have been killed instantly. The fact that he was moving trying to save you when he was shot is probably the reason he's still alive," Diana told him.

Neal absorbed that a moment before letting El pull him into a chair next to her as the four of them settled in to wait.

**Two Hours Later.**

Just when Neal thought he might go crazy from waiting a doctor coming up the hall caught his eye. A small weight lifted as Neal recognized the doctor as Nathan Taylor, Peter and Neal's doctor and friend.

"Nate," Neal said as he walked toward the doctor.

"Hey Neal," Nate said as they shook hands.

"How is he?" Neal's voice was practically begging him for good news.

"He's going to be fine," Nate hurried to reassure him.

Neal collapsed into the chair next to him and let out the breath he had been holding for the last two hours.

"The bullet missed his lung and arteries. He lost some blood so we gave him a transfusion but he'll be fine and should be out by the end of the week," Nate said.

"Thank you, Nate," Elizabeth said.

"My pleasure. By the way I was wondering, was Peter, by any chance, moving when he was shot?" he asked.

"Yes. How did you know?" El asked.

"I could tell by the wound. It was fortunate that he was moving because if he hadn't been, it would have hit his heart," Nate replied.

Neal sat stunned a moment.

"See? I told you," Diana said. "You saved his life."

Neal just nodded numbly, letting it all sink in.

_It wasn't my fault_. The thought finally sank in and he felt relief wash over him. Peter was going to be ok and it wasn't his fault. He took a deep breath and let himself relax just a little, but he couldn't completely relax. Not until he saw Peter for himself.

"If you come with me you can see him," Nate said reading the emotions on Neal's face.

El grabbed Neal's arm and followed Nate down the hall while Diana and Jones stayed in the waiting room to make the calls to let everyone know the news.

On the way to the room, Neal stopped at a vending machine and got a coke.

At El's questioning look Neal replied, "he might be thirsty."

El smiled at him.

When they got to the room and Nate had left, El gently pushed Neal towards the door. He looked at her questioningly.

"Go on and see him. I'll be in in a minute," she said.

He gave her a puzzled look before walking into the room. El wanted to see Peter but she knew Neal needed to see him more at the moment.

_He needs his father,_ she thought.

**)()()(**

Neal walked into the room to see Peter laying on the bed with his eyes closed and an IV stuck in his arm. As he neared the bed, Peter opened his eyes.

"Hey," Peter said, smiling.

"Hey. Did I wake you?" Neal asked.

"No. I was awake."

"Good," Neal said as he sat in the chair beside Peter's bed.

"I brought you a coke in case you were thirsty," he said as he set it on the bedside table.

"Thanks," Peter said.

An awkward silence enveloped the room before Peter finally spoke.

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" Neal asked.

"Why did you say you were me?" Peter clarified.

Neal shrugged, "I don't know," he mumbled as he looked at the floor.

Peter reached over and tipped his chin up. "Don't give me that. You do know. Why?"

Though Neal tried, he couldn't hold back the tears.

"I couldn't let him shoot you. I already lost Kate, and I didn't want to lose you too."

"And you think I want to lose you?" Peter asked as he moved his hand to grip the back of Neal's neck.

"No. But..." Neal paused.

"But what?" Peter coaxed.

"But I didn't want the better man to die," Neal whispered as he looked down again.

Peter's heart clenched and he instinctively pulled the young man into his arms.

"You are a good man Neal and my life is not worth more than yours," he pulled back slightly, his own tears running down his face. "You are worth so much, especially to me. I love you like a son, Neal and I never want to feel the fear that I felt when that gun was pointing at you _ever _again."

Neal hadn't realized it, but those were the words he had been wanting to hear his whole life.

"I love you too, Peter," he said as he buried his face into his surrogate father's chest and sobbed.

Peter held him tightly and ran his fingers through Neal's hair. Peter hadn't known what it felt like to be a parent until Neal came along.

After a minute, Neal pulled back and wiped away his tears.

"Thanks. I needed that," he said.

"Any time," Peter replied then pointed a finger in Neal's face, "but if you ever do anything like giving yourself up to a gunman again I will send your butt back to prison," he said with a teasing tone.

Neal chuckled. "Duly noted."

"You thirsty?" Neal asked when Peter coughed.

"Yeah," he said.

Neal got up and got the coke that he had set on the bedside table and handed it to Peter.

Peter popped the top and was immediately drenched as the coke sprayed out of the can. Neal jumped backward out of the way.

After a moment the can stopped spraying and Neal looked to see Peter sitting in the bed looking like a drowned rat and he just couldn't help it. He laughed.

When El heard Neal start laughing she went into the room and took in her husband looking like a very upset and very drenched cat and glaring at their surrogate son who was collapsed in a chair laughing and she began to laugh too. The laughter was infectious and after a moment Peter joined in and the whole family shared a laugh.

What would you do for a friend, a brother, a son?

Peter Burke took a bullet.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Here it is the fourth and final story. A little heads up this one is a Deathfic.**

**Thanks so much for all of the reviews, alerts, and favs!**

**Also thank you Principessa Di Morte for beta(ing) these stories!**

**Disclaimer: ... **

_There's no greater love than this, that a man would lay down his life for a friend. John 15:13_

What would you do for a friend, a brother, a son?

...

His ears rang. They rang from the shot. The shot that had in one moment, sent one bullet into one person, and shattered two lives.

...

He had been staring at the gun. He knew that the man holding it would not back down. He could see it in his eyes.

He watched as everything suddenly moved in slow motion, the finger twitching, the trigger moving.

_This is it_, he thought.

Then it was as if someone hit fast forward. Everything happened all at once.

There was a flash of movement to his right, something hit him, and he heard the report of the gun. He was on the floor, but there was no fiery pain and no blood. Then his brain made sense of the last few seconds.

Something hit him and _then _the shot. Something had knocked him to the floor before the gun went off.

He froze, the ringing in his ears deafening, as the realization crashed into him. Not some_thing_, some_one_.

He scrambled to his feet, whirled around, and saw the thing that had haunted him in his worst nightmares. But this was no nightmare and someone who had come to mean the world to him was standing there with a rapidly growing red stain on his chest. Peter's knees gave out and he collapsed.

Neal lunged forward moving faster than ever before. Miraculously, he caught Peter before he hit the floor then laid him in his lap. One look at the wound told him that even if help was here right now it would be fatal, and help was going to arrive far, far too late.

"Neal…"

The whispered name broke through his thoughts and brought tears to his eyes but he held them back.

"Peter," he choked out past the lump in his throat as he cradled the older man in his arms.

There were others around them looking on with sad and helpless looks on their faces, but Neal and Peter didn't notice them. There in that moment, they were alone and time stood still.

"Tell El I love her," Peter rasped.

"I will," he promised.

"I love… you… too… little brother."

The tears he'd been holding back ran down his face.

"Please, Peter, don't leave me," he begged.

"I will… always… be with you. Even when… you can't see me."

A weak bloody hand slid up to rest on his chest.

"I'll be… here." The hand patted his chest over his breaking heart, then moved to rest on his face.

"You are a… good man, Neal. You have… potential. You can… do great… things. Don't waste… your life. Do something… worthwhile… with your life."

"I will. _I will_," he promised.

Neal clung to him tightly, wishing he could physically hold him there.

"I love you, Peter," he choked out as his heart shattered even more.

He was losing his brother his father and the only family he had all at once.

Peter gave a small smile and stared him in the eye.

"Neal," he sighed.

Then his eyes slid shut and his blood stained hand slid from Neal's cheek, leaving his face looking like his heart; broken and bleeding.

Neal held Peter to his chest and buried his face in Peter's shoulder as he sobbed openly.

It had hurt when Kate died, but this was so much worse. When Kate died there had been someone there to grab him and keep him from running into the flames. There had been someone there to pick up the pieces after he broke. There had been someone there to hold him together and keep him from completely shattering. Peter had been there. But this time, there was no one to keep him from running into the flames. No one to pick up the pieces or hold him together because the one person who could do that, the one person who could give him a reason to go on, was gone.

And Neal was alone.

**3 years later**

Neal watched as the tracker was removed for the last time.

"Congratulations, Agent Caffrey." Hughes said as he handed Neal a shiny new badge and the room erupted in cheers.

After Peter's death Neal stopped all of his illegal activities and instead decided to become an agent in honor of Peter. He had passed all of the required tests and training, (fairly and honestly), and it had only been a matter of waiting for his sentence to end before it became official.

Neal looked at the badge with a bitter-sweet smile on his face. He was happy, he was free, and he was now an agent but sadness was intermingled with the joy. The one person he wanted most to be here to see this wasn't and he never would be.

"Peter would be proud," Hughes said reading his thoughts.

"Thank you, sir," he replied with a small smile.

"I think there's someone else who would like to congratulate you," Hughes informed him as he motioned behind Neal.

Neal turned to see Elizabeth behind him. Tears slid down her cheeks and both happiness and sorrow etched her features. She walked forward and wrapped her arms around Neal and he returned the hug. She stepped back and looked into his eyes.

"He would be so proud of you," she said.

Standing there looking at the woman who was a mixture of mother and sister, the guilt that he thought he had gotten rid of reared its ugly head again. The reality that, because of him, her husband was never coming home again still hurt him deeply.

"I'm sorry," he said as tears welled in his eyes and he promptly looked at the floor.

He heard her sigh before she gently grabbed his chin and raised his head so he was looking at her.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop feeling guilty?" She asked quietly.

Neal couldn't answer around the lump in his throat. Over the last three years she had told him more than once to not feel guilty, but it was so hard sometimes.

"If Peter had to die, I'm glad it wasn't senseless. Him dying to save you is the only thing that could make his death worth it. And the only reason I was able to deal with it, the only reason I can still deal with it is because you are still here. He saw the potential in you and he knew you could do great things if you tried, and he wanted to make sure you had that chance because he loved you just like I do, and if he was here he would tell you the same as I am. Don't feel guilty. It wasn't your fault; he wanted to save you and he would do it again in a heartbeat."

Neal nodded as he held back tears and they embraced again.

"Caffrey!" Hughes called.

Neal turned around to look at the older man.

"It's time to move into your new office," he said pointing upstairs.

Neal looked where he pointed and froze as he laid eyes on the one place he had not stepped foot into in three years, not since that day. He had walked past it, had looked into it, and had stood in the doorway but never entered. It was Peter's office.

The office had sat almost untouched for the past three years. Agents had come and gone but none had stayed for very long. None of them could connect with the grieving, broken team that missed their boss and friend. They didn't know how to deal with the overly professional agents who kept everyone at arm's length or the conman that didn't smile, didn't speak unless spoken to, and never under any circumstances entered that office.

Neal continued to stare without moving until he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Elizabeth smiling at him. And it was a genuine smile.

"Go on," she said.

"I… I can't," he whispered.

"He would want you to. If anyone can fill his shoes it's you. Now go," she said with a slight nudge.

He walked to the stairs and climbed them slowly. When he reached the top he stopped and looked through the glass walls in front of him. It was the same. The desk was in the same place and the computer sat on the edge where it had always been. Although it had been three years and the pain had faded some there were still times, like now, when it hurt so much he couldn't remember feeling anything but the pain.

Neal could almost see him sitting behind the desk drinking coffee and working on the computer. In his mind's eye he saw Peter turn, look at him, and smile.

_You're a good man and you have the potential to do great things. Do something with your life_, Peter's voice whispered in the back of his mind.

As Peter faded away Neal looked at the badge still in his hand.

"I will," he murmured.

Then he clipped the badge to his belt and strode into the office. As he entered the room a peace settled over him. It would always be Peter's office, but now it was Neal's office, too. And as he stood there, he smiled. It was the biggest and brightest smile he had smiled in a long time, because he knew that no matter how far apart they were Peter would always be with him.

What would you do for a friend, a brother, a son?

Peter Burke gave his life.


End file.
